Page 19 of Possessed by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #6)

FIFTEEN

Nena moved through Madrian’s quarters like a ghost exploring an abandoned space station.

The vast space felt hollow despite its size, each room more sterile than the last. No books.

No artwork. No personal belongings of any kind.

Just cold efficiency and empty surfaces that reflected nothing of the male who lived here.

The replicator had provided her with food.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing, so what came out was an interesting soup that she assumed was whatever Madrian had programmed it to produce last. It tasted odd, but it was edible , and it was a welcome break from the nutrient paste she’d grown accustomed to.

But after eating a portion of the soup, she was full and curious about her surroundings.

How could someone with so much power live with so little joy?

The contrast between his position and his prison struck her as profoundly sad.

She found herself in what appeared to be his study.

A massive desk dominated the space, its surface clear except for a single datascreen.

Behind it, floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the garden dome and the purple sky beyond.

The chair was designed to accommodate his wings, with gaps cut into the high back.

Nena settled into the chair and activated the screen.

If she was going to hide here, she might as well learn something useful.

The reading modules she’d been watching in her cell during off-hours had helped, but she was still struggling with most written text.

The symbols on the screen swam before her eyes, familiar enough to recognize but not quite readable.

She touched the interface hopefully. “Can you read this to me?”

To her surprise, a pleasant synthetic voice responded. “Voice assistance activated. What would you like me to read?”

“Everything. Start with the recent files.”

The screen highlighted the first document. “Facility Status Reports,” the voice announced, then began reading lists of Axis installations across the quadrant. Mining operations. Manufacturing centers. Military bases. And prisons. So many prisons.

Her breath caught when the voice reached a familiar designation: “Terian Penal Colony 5-11B.”

“Stop,” she said. “Tell me more about that one.”

The interface obligingly opened the file.

“Penal Colony 5-11B Status Report,” the voice began, then launched into clinical details.

Population numbers. Resource extraction quotas.

Security assessments. But buried in the bureaucratic language, she heard hints of something more.

References to “destabilization events.” “Communication blackouts.” “Overseer noncompliance.”

The settlements were in rebellion. Just as the voices on the device had suggested.

“Show me older reports about this colony,” she said.

The voice scrolled back through cycles of data, painting a different picture. For countless periods, Colony 5-11B had been listed as “fully compliant.” A model facility where prisoners worked without resistance and quotas were consistently met. What had changed?

“What other files can you access?” she asked.

“Searching available recent documents,” the voice replied. “Recently sent files from Prime Watcher Rien: Species Historical Archives—Restricted Access for High Chancellor Madrian only. Warning: This file is encrypted and cannot be viewed on any other device.”

“I understand. Can you open it, please?” What was she doing? It wasn’t as if the computer would respond better to nice manners.

“Complying.”

The first entries made her hands shake as the synthetic voice read them aloud.

“Planet Teria. Status: Captured. Subterranean resources removed. Current conditions: Uninhabited due to psiak radiation. Population at time of conquest: 847,000. Current population estimate: 6,133. Location: Penal Colony 5-11B and other scattered installations.”

Six thousand. Out of nearly a million people. The number hit her like a physical blow. Her species hadn’t just been conquered—they’d been systematically eliminated.

“Show me images,” she whispered.

The screen filled with pictures that made her chest ache.

Teria as it had been. Rolling green hills dotted with crystalline cities.

Orbital gardens that spiraled around the planet like jeweled rings.

Her people in their natural environment, hair flowing in brilliant colors, skin marked with the golden freckles that caught starlight.

They’d been beautiful. Free. Advanced.

Now they were numbers in fields, working until they died.

“Read me the entry on Zarux,” she said, dreading what she might hear.

“Planet Zarux. Status: Captured. Population at time of conquest: 1.2 million. Current population estimate: Unknown. Notes: Royal family eliminated. Six royal offspring integrated into Axis command structure during infancy. Four remain in Axis command.”

The royal family. Madrian’s family, if Rien’s information was true. His parents, killed. His siblings…

She leaned back, thinking about Settlement 112-1’s overseer.

She’d never learned his name, or anything about him.

The overseer was just the overseer. He’d been feared and worshipped, and avoided at all costs.

But the first thing she remembered thinking about Madrian was how similar his eyes were to the overseer’s.

If four of the royal offspring remained in Axis command, then the overseer could be one of Madrian’s brothers.

Had Madrian just learned that by reading this entry, or had he known it all along?

The voice continued reading details that filled her with growing horror. The systematic destruction of two entire civilizations. The deliberate separation of species that had once been allies. Whose planets had shared an orbit and had been integrated for hundreds of thousands of mig -cycles.

“Are there more files about Terians and Zaruxians?” she asked.

“Searching… Found: Project classification. The Zaruxian Severance Protocol.”

Her blood ran cold. “Read it.”

“Project Status: Complete. Objective: Eliminate inherited Zaruxian emotions and ethics. Method: Intense physical training; isolation; memory suppression, including implantation of correction module in brain. Results: 99.7% success rate. Note: Zaruxians’ susceptibility to Terian influence can be severed by repeated use of correction module, as seen in test case: Ellion.

But best practice is to keep species separated. ”

The clinical language made her sick. They’d known. The Axis had known about the connection between the two species and had systematically worked to destroy it.

“Continue reading,” she said, though every word felt like a knife.

“Emergency Protocols section,” the voice announced. “In the event of bond reformation: Level 1: Immediate separation of subjects. Level 2: Memory erasure procedures. Level 3: Elimination of Terian subject. Level 4: Full neural restructuring of Zaruxian subject.”

They had a playbook for this. A step-by-step guide for destroying exactly what was happening between her and Madrian.

At least, someone had worked up a solution to keep the two species from reuniting.

It wasn’t Madrian. He was one of the Twelve and even he wasn’t ranked high enough to be in on this plan.

She was still listening to the horrific details when she heard the soft chime of the door. Her heart leaped. Madrian was back. But instead of relief, she felt a crushing weight of knowledge. Had he read all this? If not, how could she tell him what she’d learned?

The door slid open and he stepped inside, his expression grim. The moment he saw her at his desk, his features shifted to concern.

“Nena.” He crossed the room in quick strides. “What’s wrong?”

She gestured at the screen, unable to find words. The synthetic voice had fallen silent when he entered, leaving only the damning text displayed across multiple windows.

He leaned over her shoulder to look. His presence warmed her despite the chill of what she’d discovered. She watched his remarkable silver eyes scan the information.

“They destroyed everything,” she whispered. “Did you know all this?”

“Yes. I read this after Rien sent it to me.” His voice was flat, emotionless. But she could feel the fury radiating from him like heat from a forge.

“What they did to both of our planets. It’s…” she trailed off, struggling to find the words. “They calculated everything, right down to how to stop our species from finding each other again.”

“I know.” He straightened, moving to the window. His wings spread slightly, as if he needed the space to contain his rage. “The council made it clear today that Zaruxians are no longer to be trusted.”

She turned in the chair to face him. “What happened?”

“They’re watching me. Testing for signs of corruption.” His reflection in the glass looked strained, as if the careful mask he wore was starting to crack. “They know about us. About what we’ve become.”

Elimination of Terian subject. “And they’re going to kill me for it.”

“They’re going to try.” He turned back to her, and the weary smile in his silver eyes made her breath catch. “But I won’t let them.”

The certainty in his voice should have comforted her. Instead, it terrified her. Because she could see what this was costing him. The careful control he’d maintained for umpteen cycles was fracturing. The weight of truth was breaking down walls he’d built around himself.

“Madrian.” She rose from the chair, moving toward him. “You can’t fight the entire Axis alone.”

“I can try.”

“And die in the process.” She reached for his hands, finding them hot. “That won’t save either of us.”

His gaze searched her face. “Then what do you suggest?”

“We find the others. The Zaruxians who escaped. Your brothers . My friends who were abducted with me, might be with them.”

“They are.” His gaze moved over her face, as if memorizing the contours.

Her heart gave an involuntary squeeze. “Truly?”

He nodded. “You didn’t get to the end of Rien’s files.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she clutched his fingers. “They’re alive. Sweet stars , they’re alive. Please, Madrian. We need to find them.”

Something shifted in his expression. Hope, maybe, or recognition. “Rien mentioned she might have a location.”

“Then ask her.” She tried not to sound too eager or pushy, but her mind was swirling with possibilities. And here she was, all but bullying a high chancellor of the Axis. It was laughable, really.

“It would mean leaving Central,” he said, more to himself than her. Obviously , they’d have to leave Central. “Abandoning everything.”

Nena gestured at the sterile quarters around them. “What exactly would you be losing?”

The question hung between them like a challenge. Madrian’s gaze swept the empty rooms, the polished surfaces, the complete absence of anything personal or meaningful.

“Nothing,” he said finally. “I’d be losing nothing.”

But his hand tightened around hers, and she knew that wasn’t quite true.

He’d be gaining something instead. The chance to become who he was meant to be.

The opportunity to fight for something that mattered.

Even for him, a powerful Axis leader, the thought of leaving everything he knew had to scare him.

“Then we go,” she said.

He nodded slowly. “Yes. We go.”

The decision felt monumental, like stepping off a cliff into open sky. But for the first time since arriving at Central, Nena felt something she’d almost forgotten.

Hope .